Masks
by Sweetdeath04
Summary: Post-Equinox. Voyager is a mess and her crew is in a worse than the ship. The Doctor and Seven have always been able to fix each other but this time they might be broken beyond repair. Chakotay wonders if he's out of his depth, trying to fix them. Pre-C7.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I am but a poor student and I'm not even studying writing so please don't sue me!

**A.N. **_I shouldn't be starting this fic. I really shouldn't. I have deadlines. I have exams. I have three unfinished fanfictions just begging for my attention. But the holidays have offered me a brief reprieve in my studies so here I am! Enjoy!_

_**Masks**_

**Prologue**

Seven of Nine, formerly tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One, currently a member of Voyager's crew, felt that her self-restraint was not only admirable, but somewhat extraordinary. Only moments ago she had been sitting on one of the bio-beds is Voyager's Sickbay, acting like a model patient as the Doctor ran a tricorder over her one last time before she could be released. Normally this would be nothing worth mentioning- after all, she was possibly Sickbay's most frequent visitor, rivalled only by Harry Kim. Considering, however, that only twelve hours ago the very same Doctor who had just finished putting her back together had, at that point, been dissecting her, controlling her, _torturing_ her, she thought that managing not to flinch away from his medical instruments was something of a triumph.

Although she hadn't specifically said that she didn't blame him, it was implied when she had offered to help him add security protocols to his program and then proceeded in an attempt at teasing his singing. And it had apparently been a successful attempt- she had witnessed his eyes light up, as they were partial to doing when a situation was infused with humour.

So no, she didn't blame him. But it was difficult to control her instinctive reactions to lash out at him as soon as her motor functions had been restored, to get him away from her, even though logic dictated that he was no longer the same person who had taken her apart in the first place. The incident aboard the Equinox had affected her more than she was willing to admit to anyone at this stage, especially as she considered her concerns to be so hypocritical.

For now, Seven decided, she would try and put it out of her mind and dwell upon other things. Once she had regenerated she would be asked to assist with the extensive list of repairs that needed to be carried out on Voyager. She would focus her energies on that, rather than on her meeting in Holodeck Two, tomorrow at sixteen hundred hours.

* * *

><p>The Doctor's smile faded as the doors to Sickbay slid shut. He was lucky to consider Seven of Nine his friend, especially after this last incident. She had forgiven him without so much as a second thought for his actions on board the Equinox and written the whole thing off as an aberration that had been the result of tampering with his program.<p>

But it still worried him, that he would willingly cause a friend so much pain, ethical subroutines or none. He _felt_. Not only that but he felt for_ Seven_! His ethical and emotional subroutines interacted, obviously, but surely not to the extent that if one were deleted the other would become irrelevant to his functioning? Shouldn't his emotional subroutines have at least made him question why he would hurt someone he cared for?

He sighed as he fiddled with his tricorder absentmindedly. Repairs were being carried out on the ship and that meant that soon he'd have a steady trickle of patients to keep his mind from wandering to such dark places. Oh, unless something in Engineering went horribly wrong it wouldn't be anything serious, but without a doubt there would be an abrasion here, a laceration there and a plasma burn somewhere in the middle.

He wished fervently for the safety of the crew. He may have acted with the skill of a surgeon on the Equinox but he his work had been butchery. There was a fine line between the two disciplines and he'd feel a lot more comfortable performing the former when he knew he had the security protocols in place to prevent him deviating to the latter.

* * *

><p>Chakotay threw his arm over his eyes as he collapsed on top of his bed in his quarters. Now reinstated as First Officer, he had just completed the longest double shift he could remember. It wasn't the manual labour that he found difficult- he was a fit man and while his expertise wasn't in engineering he was certainly capable of fixing many of the smaller systems aboard Voyager along with cleaning the debris off the decks. No, the reason this particular day had been so long was because of the emotional strain he had been put through.<p>

After informing the remaining crew of the Equinox of their situation he had tentatively extended the hand of friendship to Kathryn, and she had accepted it, no questions asked. But like she had informed their new crewmembers, trust had to be earned, and his trust in her had certainly taken quite a dent. He was sure that she also thought the same of him.

When he had been relieved of duty he had confined himself to quarters, reluctant to involve himself further in what he saw as Captain Janeway's decent to madness. He had spent the time remembering the barbs that they had exchanged earlier in the conflict and deliberating on those where the attack had not been so blunt, wondering if he should have seen this coming and if a mutiny would be on the cards in the near future. He had prayed that she would see sense and it seemed now as though she had. But not before Ransom. He wondered now whether things would have played out differently if Ransom had not had an attack of conscience or whatever it was that had made him change his ways at the very end.

He hoped not.

But working with Janeway had been more difficult today than it had been since the time when their two crews were still two distinct crews- before they had merged cohesively. And then there was B'Elanna. He had dropped by Engineering before returning to his quarters to find her barking orders at her people who were already working feverishly, doing their best to avoid both her and her wrath.

She was furious. Furious with Max Burke, with Ransom and with herself for not seeing the change in her old lover before it had been revealed to the crew as a whole. But the anger would subside eventually and then, Chakotay knew, she'd be forced to deal with the feelings of betrayal that it was masking.

He'd keep an eye on here, he decided tiredly, though, these days it was more likely that she'd turn to Tom or maybe Harry if she needed someone to vent to, rather than him. But he'd offer her an ear if she needed it. He'd even give her a run on his boxing simulation on the Holodeck if the situation required it. But he hoped that she'd accept that the _petaQ_ wasn't worth the wasted energy.

Exhaustedly, he raised himself off the bed in order to strip off his boots and uniform. Tomorrow he would start debriefing their five new crewmembers, he decided. The Captain would want to be involved. She wanted to know what had made Ransom repent during his last few minutes of life even more than he did.

As he crawled into bed for a well deserved sleep, he belatedly remembered that he should have checked in on the Doctor and Seven. He'd heard that the former Borg had been in quite a state when she had been returned to Voyager. He rolled over and put it out of his mind. No doubt he'd receive their reports tomorrow. There was nothing he could do until then. Besides, he mused, the Doctor and Seven were generally able to put each other back together when they had been through some trial or another, and when they weren't, the Captain usually succeeded. He doubted he'd need to intervene in that particular case.

* * *

><p>Voyager was a mess. The damage was obvious. She was battered and beaten, but not beyond repair. Unfortunately the same could not be said of her crew. Each one of them was suffering. A few had walked away relatively unscathed but most had their share of scars. In the Mess Hall, many grieved over those they had lost during the battle. Some were working, trying to repair the ship that had become their home, all too aware that it wouldn't heal those who lived within her. A few had holed themselves in their quarters, unwilling to show their faces whilst plagued with guilt.<p>

The rest were too proud to show their wounds. They were too proud to ask for help. Yet it was those few that had been hurt the worst. If only they would drop the masks that they were struggling to hold, for only a moment, a ship-full of friends would come to their aid.

But they wouldn't. Instead, they would suffer in silence until maybe, just maybe, someone realised that the person they were speaking with was not their comrade, not their friend. That, in their place, there was only a mask.

**A.N. **_Gahhh... I'm not sure I like this. The last few paragraphs are weird. Ah well, let me know what you think and I'll try and keep this fic going in between the coursework and the exams!_

_**~Sweetdeath04**_


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and anything related to it does not belong to me.

**A.N. **_*Bows head in shame* Okay, so this chapter's up a wee bit later than I expected it to be. In all fairness, it was really hard to write! I usually have no problems writing Seven, but this time I'm not at all sure if I've made her too Borg-y. Let me know what you think!_

**Chapter One**

"Warning! Regeneration cycle incomplete!"

Seven stepped out of the alcove sharply, as though the metal had burned her. She didn't dream, but regenerating wasn't a process where she could forget about the day's troubles, unlike sleep. Instead, she processed the events that had occurred since her last cycle, analysing them in her mind before they became stored forever in her cortical node.

She would have preferred to forget completely about the events of the previous day but that was just not possible. Not for her. But Seven was good at disregarding memories and emotions that were irrelevant- her experience in the matter was plentiful.

But she couldn't ignore the Equinox just yet. She still had a report to write and submit. Not one to procrastinate, she walked to the Cargo Bay console and began to log the events with a level of detail that most would find excessive. Silently, she hoped to cover the events sufficiently enough so that there would be no room for doubt when Commander Chakotay and Captain Janeway finally received it and that there would be no need for any more questions to be asked. Then, perhaps, she could store her own personal memories of the proceedings away where she would never, ever have to access them again.

* * *

><p>Sometimes the Doctor regretted having emotional subroutines. Sometimes he simply regretted being modelled on a human. After all, if he had been modelled on, say, a Vulcan doctor, he expected that he would be able to look at this particular situation logically and instead of assigning the guilt that desperately needed to be placed on himself, he would have dumped it on Rudy Ransom or Max Burke.<p>

Surely then this report would be easier to write.

The console screen was by no means blank. He had reported in great detail how he had become stranded on board the Equinox and his subsequent discovery by the crew. In fact, he had gotten as far as Burke's suggestion that he extract the codes for the power relays from Seven's cortical array and his subsequent refusal, even in the face of cybernetic oblivion.

It was there he had come to a complete halt, unsure how to continue. He knew that the events had to be recorded and recorded _accurately_. He certainly couldn't hide from them.

But he was _ashamed_. Doctors, even the holographic variety, were ingrained with one rule, one ethic. _Do no harm._

He had inflicted harm on a patient. Never mind that he had healed said patient as soon as he had regained the use of all his faculties. As a doctor, he had still caused harm.

And that answered his dilemma, in a way, on how to continue. While the Doctor's medical reports were always clear, concise and detailed in a way that would allow any future doctor of the patient to make use of them, his reports on away missions were generally a bit more flamboyant. In the past, he had made the most uneventful harvesting mission sound dramatic. It was just his way.

This report would be different. He would detail it with the same care he would any medical report because this time, he could not portray himself as the hero who gallantly arrived to save the day. No, this time he was the villain and he would describe his actions in a manner as serious as they deserved.

* * *

><p>Chakotay retreated from the Captain's Ready Room, followed by Tuvok. It had been one hell of a morning. He, along with Tuvok and several members of his security staff, had debriefed the five remaining members of the Equinox's crew. The final decision would ultimately be the Captain's, but both Chakotay and Tuvok agreed that as soon as Voyager was fully repaired, they would being integrating the five crewmen into the running of the ship, firstly under supervision and then, barring any problems, after a period of a month or so they would be left to work at their respective department chief's discretion. The only reason they weren't being put to work straight away was due to a lack of personnel available to supervise them.<p>

The events on board the Equinox were beginning to be pieced together. Chakotay only had to collect reports from two more people before the final tale could be put together. Entering the turbolift, he asked the computer, "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine is in Engineering," the distinct voice of the computer replied.

He ordered the lift to Engineering, unsurprised by Seven's location. Anyone who could hold a hyperspanner had been drafted to the engineering department for the duration of the repairs. He just hoped that B'Elanna and Seven were playing nicely in among the chaos.

And chaos it was. The noise was the first thing that hit Chakotay as the doors slid open to. Personnel were swarming all over Engineering and although he couldn't see her, he could hear B'Elanna issuing orders to various crewmembers. Staring around, trying to stay out of everyone's way, Chakotay searched the sea of Starfleet uniforms for a colour that didn't blend in.

There- a flash of dark pink! As he drew closer it became easier to make out the distinct form of Seven of Nine. Toolkit in hand, she was right beside an open Jeffries Tube. Chakotay, damned if he was going to chase her though the inner workings of the ship, called out her name in order to get her attention.

"Seven!"

From his position, several feet away, Chakotay heard the thud as Seven, obviously startled after being distracted from her work, raised her head sharply and it collided with the edge of the Jeffries Tube. Wincing, he rushed towards her.

Anyone else would have let out a litany of curses, but Seven merely raised her hand to her head. Pain flitted across her features as she probed the wound delicately, before drawing her hand away. Chakotay saw the red tinge of blood on her fingers as he drew closer, before she surreptitiously wiped them on her biosuit, which was already filthy with the various undefined substances that seemed to stain every surface in Engineering.

"Sorry!" He apologised, "I didn't mean to startle you." He raised a hand towards her head, "Let's see how bad the damage is."

As Seven bowed her head to allow him to inspect the wound, she spoke in a low voice, "Your apology is unnecessary, Commander. You were not the cause of the accident."

He wondered, briefly, what had held her attention so rapt, but he was distracted by the blood that had stained her hair. The cut was small and not bleeding much, but the fact that she had hit her head hard enough to break the skin concerned him. He drew his hands away, careful not to press against the cut. "It doesn't look too bad, but you might want to get the Doctor to treat it. You wouldn't want it to get infected," he suggested lightly.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Seven's head darted up again. "No!" Chakotay inspected her, surprised by her stark refusal. "I have work to complete and my nanoprobes will repair the damage," she tried to assure him.

Normally, Chakotay would have let the subject drop, unwilling to get into an argument with the former Borg about her work ethic. But the paleness of her face as the blood rapidly drained out of it and the guilt he felt for startling her in the first place, regardless of her absolving him of it, made him press a little harder. "There are enough people here to cover you for a few minutes," he said. "And it would be inefficient if you passed out in a Jeffries Tube because you had a concussion."

She was giving him _that _glare- the one that said quite clearly, "Passing out is a human weakness. I am Borg. Borg do _not_ pass out."

Ready to give in, he tried once more, "I'm going to Sickbay in a few minutes anyway."

The glare softened and Seven shook her head. "Thank you for your concern, Commander, but it is unnecessary. I must report to the Doctor later, and if the discomfort persists I will consult him at that time."

Agreeing to the compromise, Chakotay came back to the reason he was searching for her in the first place. "Anyway, I'm here to collect your report on the Equinox, if it's ready."

Nodding once, Seven strode over to a console and withdrew the correct pad from a stack of them that were piled beside the workstation. "Is that everything, Commander?" she asked as she handed it to him.

"Yes, thanks. I'll let you get back to your work. I'd better go before I get drafted," he joked. She raised the ocular implant that replaced her eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Tuvok and Chakotay could have sworn he saw a brief smirk pass across her lips. But he blinked, and it was gone.

As he left Engineering, Seven turned back to the Jeffries Tube, crawling through it, eager to hide from the world. She hadn't expected that flash of nearly debilitating emotion when Commander Chakotay had suggested she go to Sickbay. She had felt the blood drain from her face as she thought of the Doctor operating on her with his medical instruments. But now that it had passed, she merely felt fatigued.

She rarely saw the advantage of deceit. It was a human trait that she generally despised and found problematic. However, that hadn't stopped her from employing it as a tactic today and feeling immensely grateful when it had worked.

She came to a halt, realising she had passed the section she was supposed to be repairing. This had to stop- she had to put these distracting emotions to the side. She would _not_ allow them to effect her work, nor would she let them change how she functioned while she was off duty. She would meet with the Doctor that evening. She would sing with him and she would enjoy it.

She would make sure of it.

* * *

><p>When Chakotay entered Sickbay, in search of the Doctor, he was greeted by the sight of Ensign Parks on one of the biobeds, the pants of his uniform shredded to the knees and both his legs were a bloody mess of scratches and cuts. The injury looked painful but not serious, however the Doctor's sombre expression made Chakotay wonder if the injury was more problematic than his own untrained eye could see.<p>

He decided against it as the Doctor ran a dermal regenerator over Parks legs and the skin healed, going from pink to its more natural tan. He hopped off the biobed with a promise to get a new uniform and to be more careful, leaving Chakotay to speak to the Doctor.

"Should I assume that you're here for my report on the events on board the Equinox, Commander, since you appear quite healthy?"

Straight to business, unlike the usual actions of the Doctor. Normally, Chakotay would be treated to(or forced to endure, it depended on your interpretation) a catalogue of anecdotes on what injuries the crew had subjected themselves to, and worse, that Neelix's cooking had inflicted upon them. Perhaps he'd just had a busy morning, Chakotay thought, as the Doctor retrieved his report from his office. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Everything okay, Doctor?"

The hologram extended his arm, pad in hand and expression still grave. As Chakotay took it, adding it to Seven's, the Doctor gave his answer. "It's all in my report, Commander."

Chakotay looked up at him but he had already turned away, collecting his tools and putting them back in their proper place. The answer disturbed him.

These reports had changed position on his list of priorities. In fact, Chakotay resolved, they were the first thing he needed to sort out.

**A.N.**_ Pants? Trousers? I'm not good at converting everything into American-isms. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. I won't make any promises about when the next one will be up because I go back to Uni next week and I've seriously neglected my coursework. But I shall try and upload it in the next week or so._

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! _

_**~Sweetdeath04**_


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Roses are red, Violets are blue, I don't own, So you don't sue.

**A.N. **_I actually can't believe how long it's been since I updated. The time has flown by. I swear that coursework distorts the linear properties of time. It really does. Anyway, I'm back, briefly, before exams start so I hope you enjoy this update!_

**Chapter Two**

Seven of Nine was procrastinating.

Seven of Nine _never _procrastinated. It was a pointless endeavour during which the participant rarely got anything of value completed, meanwhile leaving tasks of a higher priority needlessly unfinished. It did not make the task that one was avoiding go away, nor did it decrease the time that must be spent on the task. Instead in increased the time the individual had to focus their attention on it. It was highly inefficient and if there was one thing Seven of Nine could not tolerate, it was inefficiency.

Nevertheless, Seven of Nine was procrastinating. She tried telling herself that the task that she had to complete was a recreational activity, meant for relaxation, therefore she could not _technically_ be procrastinating because her method of procrastination was also relaxing. Somewhat. But Seven wasn't experienced in deception, even the deception of herself. And deciding what colour of biosuit to wear was not even a truly effective method of distracting her from her intended task.

She grabbed her brown biosuit with a weariness that any other member of the crew, except perhaps Vorik or Tuvok, would have denoted with a sigh, and sealed the Cargo Bay doors with her own Borg algorithms. Once upon a time she hadn't cared whether she locked the doors to the Cargo Bay whilst she changed or not, but after an incident where a young ensign had walked in, expecting to find isolinear chips and instead found a half naked former Borg, the Captain heavily suggested and had barely fallen short of ordering her to lock the Cargo Bay doors when she was, 'indecent'. At the time she had tried to ask Captain Janeway what the purpose of modesty was in human society but the Captain had not been inclined to answer.

Still, today she took more care with her appearance as she redressed that she normally would, double checking that all the smudges of grease from working in Engineering had been removed, even though she already knew that they had been. She then proceeded to recycle the soiled pink biosuit before unlocking the doors and heading in the direction of Holodeck Two. Her internal chronometer told her that it was exactly 1558 hours and if she walked at her present pace she would arrive there at 1602 hours. Yet she did not increase her gait or speed.

Apprehension churned in her stomach as she took the turbolift to the correct deck and she found her steps slowing as she came closer to the holodeck. And yet, she was still travelling towards it and drawing out the process of getting there was only increasing her trepidation. She came to a complete halt just outside the doors and before the tension she was causing herself could increase any more, she keyed in the code to open the doors.

* * *

><p>The Doctor transferred his program to Holodeck Two, tuning fork in hand, five minutes before he had agreed to meet Seven. Sickbay was in Tom Paris's capable hands for the time being and should any emergencies occur, he was only a call on the combadge away. Normally he wouldn't have the freedom to set up the program prior to Seven's arrival but due to the double shifts the majority of the crew was pulling the holodecks were not in as high demand as normal on Voyager.<p>

Now, the old Paris Opera House, or La Scala de Milán? Each had their own appeal but weren't quite perfect. A concert hall of his own design, perhaps?

In the end, he decided on Sandrine's, with the pool table removed and replaced with a Baby Grand, of course.

"Computer, what's the time?" he asked, pleased that his modifications had been finished before Seven's arrival.

"The time is 1601 hours."

That was odd. That was very odd. Seven was nothing if not punctual and if she was delayed or prevented from coming she would always notify him.

Since he had handed his report to Commander Chakotay earlier that day, the nervous tension that had invaded his gut had subsided somewhat. Now it returned with a vengeance. He had been foolish to believe that along with handing his report over to the Commander he was also handing over his responsibility to deal with any problems the situation might have initiated. His relationship with Seven was damaged, perhaps irreparably so, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Just as his own guilt threatened to engulf him, the holodeck doors hissed open and Seven of Nine strode in with all her usual confidence and poise. "Doctor," she greeted him, "I apologise for my tardiness; I was delayed in Engineering."

Of course she was, the Doctor thought with relief. They needed all the help they could get, putting the ship back together.

"I admit, I'm surprised you were able to get away from Engineering at all," he professed. "I thought Lieutenant Torres might try and keep you there all evening."

Seven was showing no signs of discomfort, he noticed. "On the contrary, Doctor, I believe she was glad to be rid of me, if only for a few hours."

He laughed at that. The open hostility that B'Elanna had once shown for the ex-drone had long ago mellowed to something of a grudging respect. But that didn't stop Voyager's two most powerful ladies, barring the Captain, of course, from waging a war of words from time to time. The last time the Captain had called them both into her ready room in an effort to put an end to the antagonism, Torres had confessed that while the two women most definitely had a serious difference of opinion, half the reason behind the aggression she displayed in the arguments, as opposed to Seven's unwavering composure, was to keep the crew of Engineering on their toes.

"Shall we begin," Seven suggested, approaching the piano.

The Doctor took a seat on the stool, Seven at his side. "We shall," he agreed. "Let's see who's _really_ singing out of tune."

She was sure that if he were to scan her with a tricorder, the Doctor would be most concerned with her blood pressure.

They started by performing a few vocal warm-ups. It was just as important, the Doctor stressed, to warm up the vocal chords before doing any serious singing as it was to stretch the muscles before performing any kind of physical exercise. They would repeat the sound, 'la', several times, each time moving through a scale. Next they would work on diction, usually by repeating numbers in a pyramid fashion. The Doctor would start, "One, one two, one, one two, three two one, one two three four, three two one," before Seven would join in, several octaves higher in pitch. It was an exercise she enjoyed- it focused her attention on keeping count, on keeping in tune and on perfecting her diction.

And then, the real singing began.

"Light she was and like a fairy, And her shoes were number nine-"

Seven had sang flawlessly through the first verse and chorus but on the forth measure of the second verse, she choked. A wave of panic spread through her, inexplicably chilling the blood in her veins. Beside her, the notes from the piano faltered and she barely met the Doctor's concerned gaze. Excusing herself, she procured a glass of water from the bar, focusing on it as she gathered herself again.

She returned to the Doctor's side at the piano and they made it through the song faultlessly before they descended to the usual debate over which version of the last verse was the correct one. They even sang several other ditties of the Doctor's choosing before calling it a night.

But Seven's hesitation during Oh My Darling Clementine did not go unnoticed by the Doctor. Nor was the way his fingers fumbled with the keys on the piano for the rest of the evening, overlooked by Seven. When they departed the holodeck, both were sure that they would never sing Oh My Darling Clementine, ever again.

* * *

><p>After receiving Seven's and the Doctor's reports, Chakotay had retired to the privacy of his quarters to review them. Four hours later he emerged, decidedly troubled and, to some extent, dazed. It was only when he found himself gravitating towards the Mess Hall that he realised he hadn't eaten since breakfast. But when Neelix placed a plate of... <em>something<em>- down in front of him, he found that his appetite had deserted him. He spent the next hour or so wandering the decks aimlessly, nodding and smiling to members of the crew as he passed, but his heart wasn't in it.

He was disturbed by what he had read in the reports. And what he hadn't read. Seven's report was the polar opposite of the Doctor's. Seven had described everything up to the moment when the Doctor's ethical subroutines had been deleted and she had been strapped to an operating table in perfect detail, as was consistent with her usual method of writing reports. But after that instant in time, her report, while still detailed, in her references to Ransom in particular, seemed somewhat vague.

The Doctor's report, on the other hand, had possessed the flamboyancy he had come to expect up until the same point where Seven's report had become vague. Instead, he had detailed his report so carefully and conscientiously that it actually resembled something that Seven would have written.

And then there was the matter of what each report actually _said._

If it hadn't been so serious he would have found it ironic. That Ransom had ordered Seven to be tortured, at the risk of her life, in order to learn encryption codes for power relays, on board the Equinox, whilst on Voyager, Janeway had done almost the same thing to Noah Lessing for a tactical status.

But it _was _serious. It was very serious. As he approached his quarters, Chakotay analysed everything that had occurred in his interactions with Seven and the Doctor earlier in the day. The Doctor, certainly, had been lacking his usual high spirits and Chakotay was sure that the, _operations_, for lack of a better word, he had been forced to perform on Seven, so contrary to his original purpose and programming, were lying heavily on his conscience. And Seven- she hadn't gone pale due to a bump on the head, oh no, that particular occurrence had been due to his mention of going to Sickbay.

Of course, this was all speculation. Both the Doctor and Seven in particular, had a habit of bouncing back from traumatic events with an ease that was almost disturbing. He could be reading something in their reports that really didn't exist at all.

But he doubted it.

Settling down with a mug of tea he picked up the first pad again and began to read, this time not only the words on the screen, but what was written between the lines, and perhaps what was written beneath them too.

Chakotay didn't sleep that night and the next morning he could have been mistaken for the Captain with the rate he was drinking cups of coffee. But it was the Captain he needed to speak to, and urgently so.

When he entered the Ready Room, she actually looked worse than he did. "What can I do for you, Commander?" she asked him, gesturing to the seat across the table.

He took it gratefully. "I've reviewed Seven of Nine's and the Doctor's reports on what happened on board the Equinox." He paused, trying to predict her reaction. "I think they deserve your attention."

Janeway gave a rueful laugh, laying down the pad that was clasped in her hand and for the first time Chakotay noticed the extensive number of reports that littered her desk. "I seem to be getting a lot of those, Commander. Think you can give me a summary?"

Chakotay froze. He actually froze, completely motionless in his seat. But Janeway was either too distracted or too tired to notice. His mind whirled, frantically trying to come up with something that would appropriately display the seriousness of what had happened to Voyager's two officers. But somehow he didn't believe that declaring, "The Doctor was turned into a modern day Mr Hyde and was forced to torture your protégée," would be entirely fitting.

Instead, he said, "Not really, Captain. All I can really say is that it's important you read these as soon as possible." He placed the pads in front of her.

She gazed at them for a moment before placing them on top of one of the stacks that beset her desk. "I will, Chakotay. As soon as I find the time." And with that, he was dismissed to Bridge Duty for the remainder of the Alpha Shift.

As he sat, with little to do except monitor repair teams, he considered the situation. Captain Janeway was going to do one of three things. What he hoped for, but considered the least likely, was that she would read the reports and deal with the fallout of the mission, most of which seemed to have landed on the Doctor and Seven. Seven was, after all, Janeway's pet project. She would want to make sure the young woman was alright, not just physically, but mentally too. The two women had a bond unique to them on Voyager and the Captain was in the best position to truly understand Seven and what she was going through.

The second possibility was that she would not read the reports until a time when the damage could not be undone or it had already been resolved. By that point, it would be too late for her to do anything about it.

The final possibility was that Janeway would read the reports and see the similarities between what she had done to Lessing and what Ransom had done to Seven and simply not be able to help Seven and the Doctor as she would be too consumed in her own guilt. Captain Janeway had demons of her own and he doubted she would let anyone help her with them.

He slumped in his seat as he realised what the only option left was.

_He _would have to confront both Seven and the Doctor. _He _would have to ease them through the trauma that had been inflicted upon them. _He _would once again be called upon to act as Voyager's unofficial councillor, all the while hoping and praying that he wasn't causing more damage in his inexperience.

He closed his eyes briefly. Well, he mused, he had already lost one night's sleep over this particular crisis. What was a few more?

**A.N.**_ Wow, 2500 words and three hours later. That was _fun_! I missed writing something that wasn't computer code. I hope you liked this chapter! Please let me know how I'm doing so far!_

_**~Sweetdeath04**_


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager or anything related to it is not mine.

**A.N. **_I'm sorry! It's been so long since I've written anything for this! Work and life in general have been hectic. But today I got my copy of the new Voyager novel, The Eternal Tide, and felt compelled to write some C7 since it was so very, very lacking in that. Hope you enjoy it!_

**Chapter Three**

Chakotay and the Doctor had never exactly been best buddies. Sure, Chakotay respected the Emergency Medical Hologram and was willing to defend his rights as a sentient being, should the need ever arise, but, as shipmates, they just didn't have that much in common and so their paths never crossed unless it had something to do with business.

The Doctor was, first and foremost, a doctor and while he encouraged physical activity amongst the crew, Chakotay's sport of choice was boxing, which the Doctor detested. What he called 'barbaric', Chakotay called a test of agility and endurance. The two antagonised each other as a matter of principal on the subject- the Doctor forever attempting to convince Chakotay to try a safer sport and Chakotay trying to sway the Doctor towards thinking of boxing like an art form. Needless to say, the length of the Doctor's lectures increased exponentially to the severity of Chakotay's injuries.

But Chakotay expected that the Doctor had witnessed enough barbarism over the past several days. Chakotay wouldn't have to worry about a lecture this morning.

Sickbay was mercifully empty when he arrived. It was quiet too- for a moment Chakotay thought the Doctor might be offline. But then he spotted him through the office window, eyes glazed over as he stared at, what Chakotay assumed were reports. Chakotay approached the door and leaned so that his head poked through into the office, inwardly disturbed by the silence. Usually, when Sickbay was empty, the caterwauling of some operatic classic or another emanated from the room, convincing those with only minor illnesses or injuries to endure the mild discomfort rather than subject themselves to the Doctor's endless singing.

"Doctor," Chakotay made the hologram aware of his presence, sliding the rest of his body through the door. "Do you have a moment?"

The Doctor made to rise off his seat but Chakotay waved him back down, approaching the chair opposite him at the desk. "Of course, Commander. You look remarkably healthy for a man visiting Sickbay," his eyes were dark and serious, "so should I assume that this visit is regarding my report?"

"That's right."

The Doctor seemed to shrink into himself. He wasn't a particularly large hologram but his personality made him seem larger than life- much like the Captain. To see him so obviously disturbed was... disturbing.

"So what is my punishment to be? The removal of my mobile emitter? Confinement to Sickbay? Or will you decompile my program and have done with me altogether?"

He didn't even sound bitter, Chakotay realised with a start. He just sounded resigned to his fate.

"The Captain get's the final say on punishments, as you know, Doctor. I will obviously give her my recommendation," he spoke slowly, looking the Doctor square in the eye, "which is that no punishment is necessary. Should she disagree I will resign as First Officer in protest." The Doctor's eyes widened until they were ready to fall out of their photonic sockets. "I have read your report and Seven's many times since yesterday and one thing is perfectly clear to me. This is _not_ your fault."

The Doctor, for once, was speechless. Chakotay continued before he could collect himself and protest.

"The same way I cannot blame Seven for what she was forced to do as part of the Borg Collective, I cannot blame you for this. I think you'll be relieved to know that Seven's report echoes my thoughts. I'm not here to hand you your sentence. I'm here to ask how you're holding up."

The Doctor's head bowed and two words, quiet, but filled with emotion, emerged. "Thank you."

Absolution granted, the Doctor continued to talk about what haunted him, and Chakotay was more than willing to listen to the words, which were at first halting but finally began to flow. They weren't interrupted, which Chakotay was grateful for, and two hours later when the conversation finally came to its natural close, Chakotay was far better informed about the situation than he was earlier that day. He was also sickened by it.

As the Doctor walked him to the exit of Sickbay, Chakotay turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder, not saying anything. The gesture was more than enough. As he left, heading back to the Bridge, he hoped that the bridge of respect that had been built between the two men had now been reinforced.

* * *

><p>As Chakotay monitored repairs from the Bridge, he contemplated his next problem- Seven of Nine. Even the thought of confronting her about this latest trauma made him groan. Although she had been part of Voyager's crew for two years now, they had never really had a proper conversation. Not that he had ever <em>tried<em> to have a real conversation with Seven, he thought, knowing that he had been in remiss.

The truth was he had no idea how to approach her about this. Would she want to talk to him about what had happened on board the Equinox? Would she want to talk to _anyone_ about it? From what the Doctor had said, it was obvious that it had affected her. Or was that just the Doctor's guilt and paranoia talking?

And _where_ should he approach her? Not the Cargo Bay- that was Seven's space. He didn't want her to feel like he was invading. Not Engineering- too many people to have a real conversation. Not the Mess Hall either- Seven wasn't exactly the most comfortable in social settings. He could invite her to his quarters, but that would be out of her comfort zone.

Astrometrics it was then. He hoped that her loan to Engineering would be up sooner rather than later. He wanted to speak to her before she had the chance to bury her feelings on the situation without actually dealing with them, as she was so wont to do.

Quietly, so that no one else on the Bridge's skeleton crew could hear him, he ordered an alert on his combadge that would inform him the next time Seven of Nine entered Astrometrics.

* * *

><p>Seven was weary. She wasn't physically exhausted- she had far more stamina than she was in the habit of letting on these days. But mentally, she felt, or at least she <em>assumed<em> she felt, what Tom Paris would call _brain-dead._

She had avoided regeneration the previous night and occasionally, if she turned too quickly or looked into a bright light, her head ached from the impact of the opening edge of the Jefferies Tube, more than twenty-four hours previously. She had almost gone to ask the Doctor to take care of it but twice now she had reached Deck Five and walked straight past Sickbay, unable to bring herself to walk through the doors.

It was stupid. It was cowardly. It was _inefficient._

Maybe she had picked up on more human traits than she thought.

She was having a similar problem with regenerating. She knew that she would experience the entire episode on the Equinox again as soon as she entered her alcove. That was something she didn't want. Yes, it was something she would have to experience eventually but a traitorous voice in her head whispered at her, that maybe if she just gave herself another day, another few hours even, to accept what had happened, maybe it would be less painful the second time around.

She squashed the voice, irritated with herself. She _had_ accepted what had happened. The Doctor had his ethical subroutines deleted. As a result, he had no moral awareness of right and wrong. He had dissected her at the orders of a Starfleet Captain. And the moment his ethical subroutines had been put back in place he had shown remorse and put her back together again. He was _her_ Doctor again. Her _friend_. One of so very few that she had.

Still, that hadn't stopped her from avoiding the Cargo Bay the night before and instead retreating to Engineering. She had wandered like a ghost amongst the Gamma Shift Crew, slowly whittling down the number of jobs on Lieutenant Torres' 'To Do' List. In actual fact, she quite liked working with the Gamma Shift. They were so much quieter than the daytime shifts. It sometimes seemed that they were part of a different crew altogether, on a different Voyager, under a different Captain Janeway. No one shooed her away to work elsewhere when the Gamma Shift were in charge. They appreciated the help. And no one called her 'Borg Bitch' or 'Ice Queen' or 'Janeway's Pet' or any of the other derogatory terms when they thought she couldn't hear them.

But she couldn't do that tonight. It was a small ship and someone would mention that she had been in Engineering two nights in a row and that, in turn, would get back to the Doctor. That was something Seven wanted to avoid. So with her own 'To Do' List in hand, she headed towards Astrometrics.

**A.N. **_Sorry it's such a short chapter, but I want Seven and Chakotay to get a chapter to themselves next time. Hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think!_

_**~Sweetdeath04**_


	5. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Voyager or anything related to it. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own perverse amusement.

**A.N. **_Thank you so much to my lovely, lovely reviewers! You people are all so kind and never fail to make my day! And if you haven't read it (which is unlikely, I admit), go read scifiromance's new C7 fic, Contagion. I can't wait to see where she goes with it, and I'm sure you'll all agree with me! After you've read this, of course! :) Enjoy!_

**Chapter Four**

Chakotay groped beside his bed for his combadge, eyes still closed, willing it to stop repeating the same words over and over again at this ungodly hour. _"Seven of Nine has entered Astrometrics. Seven of Nine has entered Astrometrics. Seven of Nine has-"_

Finding the combadge and giving it a quick slap to shut it up, he heard it skitter off the table and land somewhere on his floor. He groaned into his pillow. "Computer," he asked, voice muffled, "what time is it?"

"_The time is oh two forty-seven hours."_

Chakotay groaned again. He could have sworn the computer even sounded smug. Ordering it to turn on the lights to a dim setting, he forced himself out of bed and grabbed the crumpled uniform he had been wearing the day before. When he had entered his quarters, completely drained of energy, only three hours previously, he had barely been awake enough to remove it, let alone put it in the refresher.

What was Seven doing in Astrometrics at this hour anyway? She had been working in Engineering all day, didn't she need to regenerate? Leaning his head against the wall above the replicator, he mumbled an order for oolong tea, taking a sip before heading towards the door, head still not quite clear of sleep. But before he got there he stopped, turning back towards the replicator and asked for a second mug of the dark beverage that he preferred to coffee.

Voyager's corridors were empty as he strolled through them, careful not to spill the hot drinks he carried with him. As he reached Astrometrics he realised he probably should have asked the computer if Seven was still there before he left his quarters. He would feel slightly ridiculous going to talk to her, only to find that she had only been there for a matter of minutes to pick something up. But as the doors opened he found his worries to be in vain. Seven was standing, facing the large screen as her fingers danced across the console she was working at.

She turned as he approached but didn't say anything. Neither did Chakotay. Instead he planted the untouched mug of tea in front of her and studied the platform wearily. He was too tired to stand for a conversation of this magnitude so he was going to follow the example of the one person on the ship who spent nearly as much time in Astrometrics as Seven. He had entered Astrometrics more times than he could count over the past year to find Naomi Wildman lying or sitting on the platform, perfectly content as she amused herself while Seven worked. If a little girl could find a comfortable position here then surely he could too.

Settling his back against the wall and stretching his legs out until his booted feet touched the side of the console, he finally looked up at Seven and spluttered into his tea in an attempt not to laugh. The young woman was so blessedly confused by his appearance that the expression on her face was nothing short of adorable.

"Seven," he greeted her with a grin which he tried to hide behind his mug.

"Commander?" Seven replied in turn, but her acknowledgement was laced with a silent question which Chakotay recognised as, _'Why are you here at oh three hundred hours?'_

Shifting slightly in an effort to get more comfortable (he really had no idea how Naomi managed it), he brought one knee up closer to his chest and balanced his mug on it. Crossing his arms, he took in the sight of the still untouched mug of tea on the console above him and decided to start his conversation with the simple question, "So how many hours have you been awake for now?"

Seven, still completely bemused by the First Officer's appearance in Astrometrics, for no reason apparent to her, when the majority of the ship was asleep, answered automatically before she realised it might be something she didn't really want him to know. "Forty-six hours and twenty-one minutes," she stated, deciding he didn't really need to know the number of seconds too.

Chakotay didn't seem surprised. "That's what I thought," he mused, then nodded towards the still steaming mug in front of her. "Drink up, it's not poisoned." He watched as Seven peered at the mug sceptically. "It's tea. It's got more caffeine than coffee and tastes better too, not that the Captain would agree with me."

Seven hesitantly raised the mug to her lips and took a sip, noting the strength of its content. She had to agree that it tasted better than the coffee the Captain had once fed her and she'd avoided ever since, but as for its caffeine levels...

"Tea has more caffeine than coffee only in a dried state," she corrected the Commander softly. "The caffeine levels drop when it's brewed. This mug of tea would approximately have the same amount of caffeine as a very weak mug of coffee." She heard Chakotay 'hmmm' softly beside her and, worried that she had spoken out of term, she added hastily, "But it does taste better than coffee."

Chakotay smiled at the concession, impressed at the knowledge she had imparted. Somehow it didn't seem like something the Borg would keep on record so he had to assume it was something she had learned herself during her time on Voyager. "And it will keep you from falling asleep on your feet for, at least, a little while longer." He studied her carefully as he continued. "I know Voyager's in bad shape but we're not so desperate to finish repairs that you need work yourself into the ground."

Seven stiffened, though the action was barely perceptible. "Regeneration is more efficient than sleep, Commander." The softness and tiredness was gone from her voice, replaced by a cold, hard deliberateness and Chakotay noticed her fingers tighten on the mug. "I can continue to work without regeneration for another day without being adversely effected."

"If the Doctor found out I'm not sure that he'd agree with you."

Seven flinched. It was impossible to miss and Chakotay instantly felt guilty. He realised that his statement, so callously uttered, sounded almost like blackmail. But it had been necessary, he told himself, to open up the subject he knew needed to be discussed.

"Don't worry, I won't tell him," he tried to reassure her with a smile. "But you can't avoid him forever," he pushed ahead and decided to call her on her obvious fear.

This time, Seven gave away nothing. "Commander, I have learnt that it is almost impossible to avoid another person on this ship." Chakotay grinned inwardly. He'd concede that point. "And I spent approximately two hours in the Doctor's company on the holodeck yesterday."

She made a good point- one he couldn't refute. So he played the only card he had left. "So why aren't you regenerating?"

Seven's lips were pressed together in a thin line. He thought she would try and lie to him, or maybe, just maybe she would tell him what was going through her mind. Instead, she shocked the hell out of him by answering his question with one of her own. "Why aren't you sleeping? You need to rest far more than I do."

"Because I'm worried about _you_!" Chakotay blurted out, lifting the mug off his knee and rising to his feet to face the stubborn woman.

If it was possible, Seven looked more confused than she had when Chakotay had unexpectedly taken up residence in her lab with the gift of tea. Was it so strange, he wondered brokenly, for her to be shown kindness and concern? Or was it just strange for _him_ to be the one displaying it?

"This isn't an interrogation, Seven. Two days ago you were held hostage and tortured by a man who could be considered your best friend. You can't just be okay with that?" Could she?

Two mugs sat side by side on the console. Two pairs of hands rested beside them. Two people stared at each other, tense, tired and despairing.

Chakotay couldn't read the expression on Seven's face. She was obviously struggling for words- her brow creased in frustration. She almost looked furious, with herself or with him, he couldn't tell.

"I am fine." The words left her haltingly. But it was the words that followed them that caught Chakotay's attention. "I have to be."

He reached out and gently brushed her arm with his fingertips. When she didn't draw away he let his fingers travel down her arm to rest on top of her hand. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice as gentle as his touch.

Her fingers clenched into a fist under his hand but he didn't remove it. He could hear the anger and the frustration in her voice, but he could also hear the desperation and the pain that she tried to hide. "The Doctor is my friend." Each word was forced though her lips as her emotions warred within her. "Without him as my friend, I would be alone." Instinctively she turned her face away from him, as though to hide her shame but Chakotay twisted himself so that he could look her in the eye.

What he saw frightened him. The mask of indifference that she had worn for two days cracked as she admitted, "I cannot be alone." It crumbled as she whispered, "I am _frightened_ of him, even though I have no reason to be." The broken pieces fell away as she confessed, her voice fraught with grief, "I don't know what to do."

**A.N. **_Sorry, this is a lot shorter than I planned it to be but this seemed like a fitting place to end the chapter! Hope you liked it- please review and let me know what you think, especially about the characterisation in this chapter. I'm a bit worried they're OOC..._

_**~Sweetdeath04**_


	6. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager and anything related to it does not belong to me.

**A.N. **_This chapter being published is entirely down to_ **scifiromance**. _Really, send her any appreciation of it you might have because otherwise you might have been waiting another couple of years for it. I hope anyone who has stuck with this story enjoys it!_

**Chapter Five**

Silence would have enveloped the Astrometrics Lab after Seven's confession if it wasn't for the harsh breathing of its two occupants. Seven's eyes were wide with barely contained panic as they looked into Chakotay's. The Commander was pretty sure his face mirrored Seven's, terrified expression and all. What they hell was he supposed to do now? He hadn't thought this through. He had assumed that if he could just get Seven to talk to him, fixing the problem would be simple. A few kind words and platitudes had been enough to reassure the Doctor, but this was different. Seven's emotions were on a whole other level to anyone else's on Voyager. There was so much that was still new to her, things she hadn't dealt with before. And she was so isolated too- not to the same degree as she was when she had first joined Voyager's crew, but still more so than anyone he knew on Voyager.

This was way out of Chakotay's league. But he certainly couldn't tell Seven that.

"It's going to be okay," he tried to inject some confidence into his voice, but the look on Seven's face did not change, except for an eyebrow that shot upwards incredulously. From that, he derived that his effort to sound like he knew exactly what he was doing had failed miserably. He decided to concede to that a little- to be more honest but still sympathetic to her pain. "Really, we'll figure out a way to fix this, Seven, a little bit at a time. I promise."

Seven's eyes dropped from his and the death grip she had on the edge of the console relaxed slightly. It encouraged Chakotay, if only a little. Her voice, however, did not. "How?" she asked, voice low, and Chakotay dearly wished that there was a _real_ counsellor on board Voyager.

"Treat it like an experiment," he suggested. _That_ got her attention. "The main problem, right now, is that you 're frightened of the Doctor, right?"

Seven flushed, embarrassed by her previous confession. "Correct, even though I have no reason to be."

Chakotay brushed his fingers down her arm, consolingly. "You have every reason to be afraid, Seven," he uttered gently. "It's a subconscious thing. Even though you know in your head that the Doctor won't hurt you, now that you've seen how easily he can be forced to do it, you're worried it will happen again." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The man who tortured you _looks_ the same as the Doctor, _sounds_ the same as the Doctor and really _is_ the Doctor, minus a few essential components. The key is being able to tell the difference between him _with_ his ethical subroutines, and _without_."

Seven's expression was becoming steadily more morose. Analysing _why_ she was afraid wasn't going to help. At least, not yet.

"You said you were on the Holodeck with the Doctor for two hours yesterday. Were you afraid of him then? Or is it just when he's performing medical operations?" Chakotay's question gave Seven something solid to evaluate and he watched as her brow furrowed as she considered her answer.

She took the easy question first. "I am afraid when I think of the Doctor operating on me," Seven spoke slowly, eyes pointed downwards, her gaze dancing across her fingers as though she wasn't quite sure where to look. "I have avoided Sickbay for that very reason."

Another confession she didn't quite want to give up, Chakotay realised. Then he resisted the urge to groan when another thought struck him. Seven would only be avoiding Sickbay if she had a reason to go there in the first place. He sighed, inwardly. If she was sick or hurt, even a little... But there was little he could do about that right at this moment. Then Seven continued with a statement that Chakotay had not anticipated, "When we were singing I felt..." she struggled to name emotions that she was still somewhat unfamiliar with, "disturbed."

_Singing?_ Chakotay had heard the Doctor praising Seven's talents before but it was the first time he had ever heard _her_ mention the hobby. It suited her, he decided, as far as hobbies went. But that wasn't what he was supposed to be concentrating. "Why did it disturb you?" he asked, not sure if she would, or even could answer the question.

"He sang-" her voice was halting as she answered the question, "and he made me sing while he was," she faltered again, stumbling over the correct way to describe her unpleasant situation onboard the Equinox, "_extracting_ the codes to the power relays."

Even after reading the Doctor's extensive report on the matter, Chakotay didn't quite understand one thing, "_Made_ you sing? What do you mean?"

Apparently it was the wrong question to ask. Seven seemed to draw into herself, but her voice, while quiet, was still harsh, and Chakotay shamefully felt as though _he _were the one interrogating her. "When the Doctor had access to both my cortical and reticular node, he was able to _compel_," she spat the word, "me to sing with him, against my will."

It might have been difficult for Seven to say, or to even think about, but it was something solid for Chakotay to work off. "And singing is what the two of you do together, socially?" he asked. At Seven's short, sharp nod, he continued, "I won't tell you to avoid singing altogether, Seven. It wouldn't be healthy to just ignore your fears completely. But I won't say that you should go to the Holodeck every day with the Doctor and sing, either." She was giving him a glare that implied he was being extremely unhelpful, so he decided to get straight to the point. "Why don't you ask the Doctor for some other sort of music lessons, like piano?" The glare had softened into an inquisitive stare so he continued, "That way you're not entirely avoiding the problem but you can confront it gradually."

"That is a possibility that I hadn't considered," Seven admitted softly, staring at her hands twined together on the console. "I appreciate your advice, Commander."

As she took a sip from the tea that still sat on the console, Chakotay could hear a 'but' coming...

"However, that will not help me confront the Doctor in medical matters."

Of course. He wasn't entirely aware of how often Seven had to visit Sickbay, in order to regulate her Borg implants and to deal with all those other little maladies the afflicted the crew , but Chakotay was fairly sure that it was more than anyone else. And the truth was, he really had no idea how to solve _that_ particular problem. "I don't know, Seven. I really don't. But I know the Doctor will understand if you're hesitant. And if you want," he hesitated himself now, worried he'd be overstepping his bounds, "I'll go with you next time you need to go to Sickbay."

Seven, if it was possible, looked even more uncomfortable at the thought. Chakotay didn't know it, but the majority of her trips to Sickbay were to do with her implants and left her somewhat exposed. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have cared. But after two years living with the crew of Voyager and learning to fear the Borg, even her own implants, which kept her alive, repulsed her. She would take the benefits that they offered her, but those benefits came hand in hand with a whole host of issues, including, but not exclude to, looks of fear and disgust from those who had encountered the Borg before and the possibility that she might drop dead from one of her implants giving out. Once, she was proud of her Borg heritage. Now, she would not reveal it any more than necessary.

"That will not be necessary, Commander. I believe that this is something I should conquer on my own. But thank you for the offer." _And for the reassurance,_ was the thought that went unsaid.

Chakotay smiled at her kindly, feeling the knot that had settled in his stomach when he had started this conversation loosen. "I know that talking about it won't solve all your problems, Seven. But if you ever _want_ to, or you need a sounding board, you can come find me at any time." He ran his arm up her back, settling his hand comfortably on her shoulder. "Now, shouldn't you be regenerating?"

He felt her back straighten, her muscles tighten, as though bracing herself. "Yes," she said, her voice back to its normal confident tone, "I should."

Picking up their now empty mugs and trailing his hand down to the small of her back, he guided her out of Astrometrics before she had a chance to change her mind. "Come on then, I'll walk you down to the Cargo Bay."

They walked in silence at a measured pace until they reached the deck which housed Cargo Bay Two. With his hand still firmly planted on her back, Chakotay learned far more about Seven than he had from talking to her in Astrometrics. Her pace slowed and her muscles were coiled, like that of a cat about to pounce, or perhaps the mouse that was about to run away. It was this that compelled him to enter the Cargo Bay and see her safely in her alcove, when normally he would have parted ways with her at the door, reluctant to intrude into something so personal.

As she stepped onto the platform of the alcove, ready to enter the regeneration cycle, he stopped her. "Seven," he approached the topic that had been bugging him ever since Seven had made the statement it related to earlier that night. "There's one thing you said earlier that you're wrong about." She looked at him curiously, rather than appalled at the thought that she could be wrong about anything. "You said that if the Doctor wasn't your friend, you'd be alone." He shook his head as he said, "You wouldn't be. You have more friends on Voyager than you know."

Seven gave him a smile that was as rare as gold dust. "I am beginning to see that, Commander. Good night. And thank you."

Her eyes closed as she slipped into her regeneration cycle. Chakotay stayed thinking about what she had said, watching her, long after he could have left.

**A.N.** _I hope this was worth the wait! I've been editing this on a tablet so if there are any issues I promise to sort them out as soon as I get access to a computer. Just the epilogue left now. I shall try and post it in a slightly more timely fashion than this chapter!_

**_~Sweetdeath04_**


End file.
